


Eleanor Rigby

by ImTheManInTheFuckingMoon



Category: The Wicked + The Divine
Genre: Gen, Introspection, One Shot, References to Drug Use, full of my headcannons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImTheManInTheFuckingMoon/pseuds/ImTheManInTheFuckingMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luci's in prison and it's totally fine. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eleanor Rigby

**Author's Note:**

> Posting un-beta'd, because why not. I wrote this before issue 4 came out, but I don't think anything happened in the issue to contradict any of my head cannons. First fic in, oh god, maybe a decade. So yanno, be gentle and all that. But then this is only the fourth work on here so I know you guys can't be too picky yet. :P

Luci had always considered the possibility that she might end up on the wrong side of the law eventually, in the way she assumed that most wannabe teenage hoodlums did. But held seemingly indefinitely on no charges and accused of a crime she hadn’t committed? That was quite another thing altogether. Or at least it had been pre-Ananke-Lucifer-Pantheon and all that jazz. Now apparently it was par for the course, finger-cuffs and all.

Oh dear, if she was using sports metaphors, even internally, clearly solitary was starting to get to her. Not that she’d ever show any outward sign of that. Especially not to the tweedles who seemed to the closest thing Holloway could get to competent security.

She arched one lithe, white-clad leg up onto her cot, and rested her elbow on her knee, leaving the other leg stretched out, foot on the floor. She pointedly turned her face away from the camera and inspected her finger nails as nonchalantly as she could while navigating the awkward finger cuff. So what if she was off the stage, cut off from her vices, with no pretty young things to entice or be enticed by? Two days locked in a little room might have been enough to intimidate her once upon a time, but now she was above such petty annoyances.

There was a sharp bang on the door, followed by:

“Oi, Rigby! Dinner time!”

And a tray way unceremoniously shoved through the slot in the door.

Now she _strove_ to be above such petty annoyances.

Really, it’s not like they didn’t have anything else to call her. Satan, Devil, Demon, Accuser, Devourer, Enemy of Righteousness, Lord of the Pit; the list went on and on. Just about everyone had some new and different name you could conceivably apply to Lucifer, but these undigested lumps couldn’t even manage one cloven hoof joke. No, they had to stick to what was, _strictly speaking_ , still her legal name. As if they actually cared about rules. By some small mercy there at least didn’t appear to be any Beatles fans among them. She could only imagine how insufferable they’d be then.

Luci lazily got up from her perch to inspect that night’s delicious surprise. She crouched down and tilted the tray towards her. It appeared to be some sort of chicken dish. How delightful. As she sat back down, picking half-heartedly at the food, she was silently thankful that, divine as she was, she couldn’t actually starve to death. Good food was one of life’s pleasures, and Lucifer lived to indulge herself, but life was too short to bother with fare like this. Particularly for her.

Setting the barely-touched tray to one side and leaning back into her previous position, Luci once again felt keenly that there was no way she could spend the rest of what little time she had left in this dump. Not for the first time, she hoped that someone out there was formulating some kind of plan to get her out of here. Certainly Dennis, the good old Rigby family lawyer, had showed very early on he wasn’t going to be able to contribute anything of value.

The first time she had met Dennis she had been twelve, and a different person. Sort of. Her parents had needed to finalise the purchase of their new house, and she had had nowhere better to be. Sad as that was to say. At the time he had treated her with a kind of tight-smiled indifference, which had been fine by her. This time, however, sitting across the table from her in a rushed post-arrest, pre-hearing interview, his reaction had been not too different from that of many adults these days. Part I-don’t-want-anyone-to-think-I-truly-believe-I’m-talking-to-Lucifer, part I-need-to-leave-this-room-right-now. Probably hadn’t helped that she’d just made a couple Christian fanatics’ heads explode. In any case, it had been clear he was not going to be able to defend her at trial. Not sweating and stuttering the way he had been. Unfortunately setting up reliable legal counsel also wasn’t high on Ananke’s list of ‘How to Steer the Pantheon Away From Particularly Self-Destructive Choices’. Not that Lucifer should need legal representation; _What’s a Judge to a God_ , and all that.

Probably not a good thought to voice. Hubris aside, it would be unlikely to convince people of her innocence.

And she was innocent too, that was the particularly galling thing. If Luci had decided herself to murder the Judge in cold blood in a room full of witnesses in a display of power and hubris come-what-may, that would be one thing. Instead she’s here rotting in this pallid imitation of hell, and the murder and mayhem was done by _someone else_. Well, some of it, anyway. But surely no one was going to blame her for taking out a couple of terrorists, _defending a room full of perfectly mortal humans in the process_. It had been the plan to point that out in the hearing, before she had gotten carried away taunting the judge.

Luci rested her head against the wall and rubbed a hand over her face. It was all such a mess, and Lucifer made for a convenient scapegoat. Which was just ridiculous, humanity had proven itself perfectly capable of being the root of its own evil when two so-called followers of Jesus of Nazareth killed at least three people in an attempt to take out _gods_ with _bullets_.

Oddly enough, hated and feared and obsessed about the world over as Lucifer was, the name change was still an improvement. Not that that had been immediately clear to her parents. Coming home slightly tipsy from a cover-band concert to find their daughter dressed in a white suit and tie, bemusedly going through the contents of her room while drinking their whiskey will do that. Pop star they could deal with, Lucifer reborn, not-so-much. The real kicker was she didn’t even feel that different. Sure, now she was light-years away from the girl she had been, but becoming Lucifer hadn’t felt like a transformation so much as it had felt like waking up. Everything she’d been was still there, just more. It was like a filter had been taken off world; everything was sharper now, and all the goals and ideals that had seemed so important before had become so small she could barely see them. Though part of that could be the two-year-time-limit thing.

Great now she was thinking about how desperately she needed to get out of this place again, instead of… how this was absolutely not getting to her, and how she didn’t miss cocaine at all.

Another sharp bang to the door roused her from her thoughts.

“Oi Rigby, you ready to pass that tray back out?”

Luci looked at the nibbled-at contents of the tray. “Absolutely,” she replied.

As she shoved the tray back out the slot, the worst happened; tweedle of the day got chatty.

“Hey, Rigby, you know I’ve always wondered,” he began, annoyingly.

Rather than say anything to prompt a continuation of that no doubt thrilling thought, Luci settled back on her cot, one leg bent up as an elbow rest.

“That face… that you keep in a jar by the door, who _is_ it for?”

As the guffaws of laughter echoed down the hall, she buried her now scowling face in her hands.

_Those fuckers better hurry up and get me out of here._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to put the gag into the title because I'm super obvious like that, and also I hate titles and didn't know what else to to. It is, in case you aren't aware, from a Beatles song. In my head Luci's parents are just the kind of crazy fans that had a daughter, saw their chance, and went for it, paying no mind what a real dick move that was as far as their kid was concerned.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated. I'm a New Zealander making a vague attempt at sticking to English-English, which differs slightly in some places. So if you're a Brit or a Londonite and you notice some expressions that sound weird, let me know.


End file.
